


the metaphorical greenhouse

by triesquid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, BAMF!Stiles, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is the Voice of Reason, because sometimes he totally is, but a D+ Alpha, but not in an all 'nurturing' sorta way, more in an 'omg can you think about this logically' way, tactical!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:57:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triesquid/pseuds/triesquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek kinda--stumbled.  </p>
<p>Up the stairs.  </p>
<p>To his apartment.</p>
<p>He had an apartment now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the metaphorical greenhouse

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is kinda a Pack exploration. I kinda love Pack and what it means to be Pack and all of that warm and fuzzy _ohana_ stuff that potentially goes along with it. One day, I'm going to have to write dark!Pack to balance out all the fuzziness.
> 
> Tags, relationships, characters, et al. will change to reflect the story as it progresses. Yeah.

Derek kinda--stumbled.  

Up the stairs.  

To his  _apartment_.

He had an apartment now.  

_Apartments are cool._   Came Stiles' voice, unbidden from one of the many (many, many,  _many_ ) times that Stiles had advocated for Derek "to suck it up and be an adult and get someplace-not-a-condemned-warehouse to live."

_Yeah, apartments are like bow-ties and fezs and stetsons.  Derek should totally wear a bow-tie._   Isaac had chirped--or, as much as his voice  _could_  chirp--in support of Stiles and his obnoxious, annoying, big mouthed, loud, grating  ~~and kinda hot in that way that-- _omg_ \--his  _mouth_~~  ways.

Fuck, there was only so much retcon he could do on this, and evidently, his lusting-after-Stiles feelings were starting to sound more and more like Stiles himself.

Exhibit A.

_Just, fuck.  Why can't anything go smooth?_   And, now he was sounding like  _Firefly_.

Damn Stiles and his insistence on Pack-bonding (not bondage, you moron,  _bonding_ ) via movies and junk-food and other stupid teenager-y things.

And, no one ever listened to Derek's suggestions (okay, orders and demands) that they should be running in the woods not watching bad movies and worse TV.  But, as Stiles always liked to point out (with everyone backing him up on it), they did tons of running through the woods and other "werewolf-y things."  

Although, they all seemed to enjoy Pack-tag (a Stiles-ism that Derek couldn't break anyone of, including himself--Stiles was such an ear-worm about everything), including the humans.

_"Derek, sometimes you just have to have downtime to bond in a non-destructive, not-likely-to-end-in-blood-and-tears-and-injury sorta way.  For our collective sanity, if not for yours."  Stiles had sighed hugely like Derek's face had reflected stubbornness--which it might have--but Derek was fairly certain he had kept his face as neutral as possible with maybe a hint of Don't Make Me Rip Your Face Off._

_It was a patented mix._

_"_ _It's how you become friends and build trust and can be certain that people will have your back even if they're mad that you ate the last pop-tart."  Stiles explained in what Derek had taken to thinking of as the 'Scott, you're an idiot; let me explain it to you in words of one syllable or less.' voice with a side of 'Derek is an emotionally stunted idiot who shouldn't be in charge of anything ever.'  Wordy voices.  Fuck.  "It's not like I'm saying that there should be rousing games of Truth or Dare or Spin the Bottle.  For fuck's sake, didn't you have like--family dinners or something?  Family game night?"_

_Derek had considered Stiles' question for an exceedingly long moment.  Just to piss Stiles off.  He had to get his fun somewhere, right?  "Yes, but most of it was running in the woods and hunting together."_

_"Frikkin' born-werewolves."  Stiles had rolled his eyes so hard that Derek thought that he might actually manage to sprain a muscle doing it.  No such luck. "Trust me.  Since they started off human, once upon a time, this is necessary.  And, it's necessary for the humans to be able to more fully bond to the Pack.  You're just going to have to deal."_

_Derek had drawn himself up to his full height--yeah, it was only an inch taller than Stiles, but he was good at the looming and intimidating--and let some red bleed into his eyes. "You're not the Alpha, Stiles; I decide what's best for the Pack."_

_Or, well, Derek used to be good at the looming and intimidating because S_ _tiles had actually grabbed Derek's ear, which was the weirdest, ballsiest thing that Stiles had ever done--including staring down Chris Argent.  Something that Jackson muttered about whenever Stiles pulled this Advocate for the Pack thing._

_Something that Derek admired in that way that thought that Stiles had a massive fucking death-wish._

_J_ _ust like now._

_"Yes," Stiles had growled--and how he managed to growl a word with so much sibilance, Derek had no idea.  But, it was a really good growl:_ _low and quiet and **dangerous**_ _.  Like he'd been practicing, which Derek wouldn't have put past him, the cheeky little brat. "You're the Alpha, but you also don't listen with your big boy ears unless I make an epic deal about how you're not adhering to 'The Proper Care and Feeding of Your Pack' instructions.  So, let me make this exceeding clear for you, if you don't have non-werewolf-y bonding things, this Pack.  Will.  Fall. **APART**."  Stiles shook Derek's ear once, illiciting a started noise from Derek.  "Pack is family and all that Lilo-and-Stitch-Ohana stuff, right?  Bonding--acting like kids together instead of_   _ **fucking killing machines** \--will help them to feel like a family--to feel like  **Pack** \--rather than a bunch of random strangers thrown together.  Don't you realize that part of Erica and Boyd having run had to do with them not feeling a connection to you--to anyone in the Pack--except each other?"  Stiles stood back, voice returning to his normal sarcastic tenor, turning back to a room full of werewolves and humans that had just heard every word of the dress-down that Stiles had given Derek.  "So, what movie should we watch tonight?"_

So, yeah, Pack Movie Night became a thing with a capital THING.

Honestly, Derek kinda liked it but absolutely refused to let anyone know it.

It all made Derek question all of his life decisions.  Ever.

Whatever.  He was exhausted, bruised, probably bloodied, on his way up to his apartment that  _no one_  currently knew about, to a really-- _comfy_ \--soft bed, and a scalding hot shower.

Like he hadn't had since New York.

Which wasn't something that Derek currently wanted to think about-- _dwell upon_ \--at least until he was wrapped up in blankets that still smelled of Laura, stilled smelled of  _his_  Alpha.

Yeah, not right now.

Derek rattled his keys in the lock, pulling the door forward and up to make the misaligned deadbolt slide slickly home, pushing the door open--

\--and hearing a heartbeat that  _shouldn't have been there_ , a heartbeat he should have heard  _coming up the stairs_  if he hadn't been so preoccupied with thoughts  ~~of Stiles~~  of beds and blankets and  ~~a hot, obnoxious mouth~~  hot, hot water.

Just as flight-or-flight began to flood Derek's body with adrenaline, he caught it--a familiar, annoying scent that was citrus-y-astringent and pine-sharpness, like warm spices and black tea.

He smelled like Christmas.

How the fuck was that remotely fair?

_Fucking Stiles._

Without turning--because, really, why should he do something so typically human--Derek spoke to the presence that was  _fucking sitting on his newly acquired couch like he fucking belonged there_.  "What do you want, Stiles?  No, scratch that, that's not important.  How the fuck did you find this place and how the fuck did you  _break into my fucking apartment_?"

"Dude, seriously, pump the breaks on your aneurysm," Stiles mumbled, sounding like he had something in his mouth.  Derek surreptitiously sniffed and only smelled Stiles and Derek's apartment and plastic and ink.  So, a pen, it would seem.  Derek turned to look at Stiles through the doorway that lead to his living room, and--yep--a pen was falling away from Stiles mouth, textbook falling to his curled-beneath-him legs, eyes a little wild and a lot tired.  "You do realize that you drive the sexiest, most boner-inducing, most  _fucking obvious_ car in  _town_ , right?"  How was Stiles annoyed about Derek's  _car?  W_ hich--really--wasn't even Derek's; had been his sister's, and Derek had driven it back to Beacon Hills so that his sister would have it--

Really, not the time to be thinking about this.  

"How the hell do you think I found your apartment?"  Stiles started up again, and really, how could that kid just  _keep fucking talking_?  And still with the angry.  "I was driving down the street, stopped at a light, and--POOF!--there was your fucking Camero in an apartment building's parking lot."  Stiles just kinda--dropped his head onto the back of the couch with thunk that sounded like it hurt.  "Do you know that your building numbers the spaces?   _And that your name is on the apartment buzzers_?  Seriously, dude, that's neither stealthy nor tactical.  Do you  _want_  the Hunters to find your newest refuge?  'Cause I?  I wasn't even looking for you."

Derek leaned against the door, head falling back to  _thunk_ hollowly.   _Fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry to leave y'all at such a strange spot. It's the nature of the beast (sic), yeah?


End file.
